Blonde on Blonde

Golden suns and valhalla nights.

via Rachel

Jennifer Egan 1977.


via Jessica

Take What's Yours

Sometimes I get sucked into these dark holes of sadness and in this weird gross way it's cleansing. It reminds me of all the shit that is okay in my life and to not be such a whiny brat. I spent a good deal of this evening reading about Ann the elephant and Patrick the dog. If you don't know who they are, you can just google those phrases and believe me, you will find out. Their stories are gross and sad and don't involve cheezeburgers. Just a warning. OR you can take my word for it and believe me when I tell you that you are blessed. Blessed to be the dominant species, have opposable thumbs, autonomy. Blessed to be able to depend on yourself, it sort of makes me feel like an asshole for not getting more done on my own. The victim card, I plays it sometimes.
ANYWAY a nice getaway from all of that is to just run in the opposite direction and get lost in your own vanity, take refuge in materialism. Oh pepsi cola, oh google, oh apple, oh America. I'm talking to the universe on this one. My birthday is less than a month away, galaxies, boyfriend, friends, distant admirers, these are the things i crave.
But first, an anonymous christmas list fallen from the pocket of a rich, whipped man found on the DC train by a stranger, and then promptly sent to Gawker for collective ridicule.


Birthday Galaxy Wish List:
Trip to Disneyland
New black jeans
Bike rack for the top of my car
A yoga membership
Paid visits to the vet for each of my cats
A crab dinner at Newport Seafood
An early morning trip the flower mart
A gift certificate to Skylight
Hand made mix tapes
Art made by my artist friends
A dalmatian from a rescue
A certificate to Amoeba
A visit to Riad Maison Bleue in Fes- seriously, google the place, it's insane.
A trip to Mexico City
A massage
A pedicure.
And now for the racist portion of our show, this classic scene from Dumbo, the film that both terrified, confused and broke my heart all at the same time. This movie is single handily responsible for some sort of emotional break that occurred during my childhood and in some backwards messed up way, responsible for a good portion of my compassion. Oh if those crows could fly away from those Topsy, Uncle Tom stereotypes and if only elephants really could fly, far away from our ideas and empty pockets, away from our greed and callousness. Away from us altogether so that they may inherent the earth the way we always should have but never could.

Hang Your Hat

This month marks three years back in Los Angeles and three years in my little house. In that time I have completed my masters in critical studies, written for the LA Weekly and now the LA Times, made terrific life long friends, rediscovered my home through adult eyes and fallen in love with a total great zero douchebag dude. Not bad for three little years that seem to have flown by, if I don't say so my self. I am cat mom to three terrific hairy bad boys who leave their fur in my mouth and find their way onto the clothes of the babies I watch. It feels good to be good.

Golden Years

Osama Bin Laden is dead. Yay? I don't know, is that how I should feel? I feel sad. I feel angry. I feel angry that I was born into a culture of war, that war effects us on a daily basis. Seeps into the core of our anatomy until we can no longer separate it from our organic selves. The past ten years we have been at war. Since the planes hit, we have been living in a state of trauma. During the nineties we were at war. I was born in 1980, five years after the end of Vietnam. My father served in Vietnam and this is not usually the shit I get into on my blog, but every living male in my family over the age of thirty, on both sides, has served in a war. My grandfathers all served in war. Vietnam irreparably changed and hurt my father. Not a day goes by that he doesn't think about what happened not just to him, the country, the people of Vietnam and to his friends. At my grandfathers funeral they hung a photo of his WW11 platoon. Of the 50 odd men standing in the photo, he was one of two to return. My same grandfathers nephew committed suicide in 1976, after he returned from War. There is nothing romantic, valiant or beautiful about war. It is an ugly way to die, it is an ugly way to bring death. It hurts everyone involved and for the most part, much of its has been unnecessary. Watching these Tea Party racist assholes spout bullshit about going back to ' the way things used to be, old American values' makes me wonder what old American values do you speak of? What golden age have you hallucinated yourself into, in order to go on?

Patriot Games

It's like a storm after a long draught! Three days, three posts! I got my hair cut. That's it. An excuse to post gratuitous photos of myself. No but really, I like this cut quite a bit. Yoko however, is not amused by my see through shenanigans.

Also

I have been watching this video nonstop for the past 12 hours. Ugggh. I just want to be inside of it. So good.

Dark Allies - Light Asylum from Grant Worth on Vimeo.